Purest Light
by Magi Silverwolf
Summary: Temptation is always the hardest part of being strong...


Disclaimer: I don't own the canon and are not making money off of writing within it.

"You're trapped inside, but you can still be free...if time would set you free. But it's a long, long way to go." -Savage Garden ["You Can Still Be Free"]

~The Purest Light~

Something drew her to that place. Like metal helpless towards the magnet, she seemed to always find her way there. With every trip, she could feel her strength waning. Every time she stood before the stone monoliths, she could still feel the echo of her unforgotten sin. It rose up inside of her and tried to expel itself.

Then she would scream out her rage and disappointment to the heavens. Tears would steam down her face even as sobs ripped themselves from her blood-coated throat. Some times it would rain as if Nature was joining into her sorrow. The wind would howl along with her.

But no amount of rain can wash away such a stain.

Eventually, she'd pick herself up off the ground and make her way home.

Safe in her husband's arms, her tears would return, silent this time, instead of violent. He would hold her without asking questions. On the days when she wasn't strong enough to go beyond the front yard, he'd stay with her to be her strength. Again, he wouldn't ask questions or make demands.

Oh, she loved him so much it sometimes hurt.

But still it wasn't enough, not enough to save her.

She could never be free from her actions.

"I brought you something, Mommy."

The little voice caused her to open her eyes. He was lying on Sig's pillow. His perfect blue eyes had shadows underneath them. His hair was a tangled mess with leaves sticking out in places. He was so close that their noses were almost touching. She lifted a hand and placed it against his cheek. His eyes slipped closed in rapture.

"Are you okay, my son?"

He trembled under her hand at her faint whisper. He burrowed closer, pressing his face to her chest. Without question, she held him as he cried. Slowly, his sobs lessen. Eventually, his body released its tension. His breathing deepened as he fell into an exhausted sleep. The even breaths and soft filling of her arms lulled her back as well.

They were her babies. In so many ways, she had taken over that role from the day she returned to fetch them from Yock Island. She had cooked their meals. She had bandaged their wounds. She had badgered them into doing their chores.

But even as her love for them grew, so did her awareness of who really held that place.

It was Al who would talk about her, never Ed. From Al, she learned all about the perfect woman that had been their mother. From Al, she had learned even little things like favourite colour and scents. It was Al who she had to get up with in the middle of the night occasionally. They would sit in the rocker in the attic. She'd hold him like he was a little child who had had a bad dream and he'd cry silent tears for a mother that was no longer there.

Eventually, the tears faded. Al adapted to a new life in Dublith. He began to play with other children occasionally. His alchemy slowly improved. With each accomplishment, he beamed with pride, even when Ed mastered the techniques quicker with showier results.

Al adapted.

Ed never did.

She watched him closely. Every spare moment was spent studying, almost obsessively. His work was flawless. The only other child that he spoke more than a few words with was Al. Letters from the girl in Resembool came at regular intervals. Al wrote back every single time. Ed only did so sporadically and only when she locked the books away.

She knew that fire. Even before he asked about it, she had known the question was coming. But even prepared, the words still felt like an attack, a handful of salt in an open wound. She had lectured about respecting Nature's flow, Nature's ebb. He wouldn't listen. She had known he wouldn't.

As she had watched them board the train back to their hometown for a visit, she began to pray. She couldn't have stopped them. She had understood that. She hadn't bothered wasting breath on prayers for sanity.

She had prayed that they'd survive.

"Mommy, I have something for you," he repeated hours later. It was actually the fourth time he had said it. She had insisted on a bath first and small maintence on his automail. Then she heard his stomach growl, so she had worked on untangling his raven locks as he demolished the leftover chicken casserole from last night. Now she was out of excuses to delay. She couldn't put her finger on what worried her about his gift, but something did.

"Okay, son," she finally said. Her skin tightened as he ran to get his bag from the bedroom. Chills wracked her body despite the summer day outside. So soon-too soon-he was back with something clutched in his hands. He cradled it to his chest as if it were precious. His right hand was clenched around his soft, fleshy left.

Then he presented it as Al had used to do with his small creations. Sunlight stole in and highlighted the stone in his hands. Even as her mind screamed denials, she recognised it. It was a shard, nothing compared to what Al had been before Ed's resurrection. But there it was, worth all the care that he had shown it, the Holy Stone.

The chills were stronger now.

He had just stood there as she had attacked him. He hadn't defended himself. He had just taken everything that she had dished out and not once did he offer recrimination. Then she had had to gather them into her arms, her stolen children.

How could she stay angry with them for what she herself had once done?

Then later, he had met her eyes as he had promised to share the burden of her sin. The knowledge had been in his eyes, but the words had never came to his lips. She had been thankful that he hadn't mentioned that she was dying. He could remember his mother's illness where Al had lost that part. In his eyes, she had seen his withdrawal.

She couldn't be angry with him.

Wasn't watching one woman die enough for him?

He was sitting in the corner. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her every move, not that she could do much anymore. She had grown steadily weaker in the month since he had shown up with his gift. Now she couldn't even make it to the bathroom without help. Sig rarely left to go to the store now, wanting to be close in case she needed him.

All of them knew without saying that it wouldn't be too much longer now.

He had explained the technique to change bodies like an eager student desperate to impress the teacher. All during his speech, he had held up the Stone. He was so proud of his gift. Then came the silence before she tried once again to explain about Nature's ebb and flow, about right and wrong.

He had cried as he began to understand and she had held him. She may have cried as well. Her cheeks had been wet when Sig came home and found them kneeling in the front room, holding each other. Her forehead had been moist as well, though, so she couldn't be sure.

Neither he nor she mentioned exactly what the stone was to Sig. He probably wouldn't recognise it. A part of her was thankful that Al was already gone. One pair of pleading eyes was difficult enough to deny. It would be almost impossible to stand against two children and do the right thing.

So, she had just sat the Stone on her bedside table in front of a picture of Ed by himself. It had been a way of reminding herself of the price that would be paid if she gave into her fears. Sometimes she found herself staring at the Stone. Other times, she would turn her back to it, unable to face her temptation.

Time had begun to take on strange portions. At times, it seemed to crawl as she vomited up what seemed to be fountains of blood. Then there were times when she was laying facing her husband or unaging son just staring at their faces, memorising them to take with her, and she'd glance at the window and day had become dusk in the minutes that must have passed.

Sig's eyes had begun to taken on the exhausted hollows that her son's eyes had never lost. Sometimes she would wake to find them both staring at her, as if not wanting to lose even a moment. Sig lost weight as he would forget to eat, sometimes for-was it days or hours?-on end. She had watched the changes with a vague helplessness, as if she couldn't summon any stronger emotion.

"Can you get me a glass of water, love?"

He raised his head from their clasped hands to look at her face. She had gotten so pale in the last few days that she almost matched the pillow upon which her head rested. He could see a little bit of her old fire in her eyes, something that had been missing the last couple of months. His hands tightened around the one of hers that they held. It remained limp, not resisting. Mutely, he shook his head.

"Please," she whispered. He could barely hear the soft sigh of her voice. In his corner, the homunculus straightened and began to glance around the room nervously. Unable resist his Izumi, he laid her hand across her waist. He gave her a brief kiss on the lips. Equally unable to resist, he rested his forehead against hers with his eyes closed. Two tears fell from him to join the two trailing down away from the corner of her eyes.

"Izumi..." Unable to finish his sentence, he headed for the door. The breath of her voice reached him before he had even left the room. He gripped the doorframe for strength. His breath became ragged and uneven. His voice cracked as he returned the sediment. Then he fled the room for their tiny kitchen.

He filled a small glass with cool water from the facet. Carefully, he wiped down the sides with a hand towel. Then he headed back, each step agonisingly slow. His heart seemed loud in his ears. Each breath caught in throat. The hairs on his neck and arms stood at attention.

An unearthly scream ripped through the house. The glass slipped from his hand as he darted from one end of the house to the other. By the time that the water and glass shards coated a large portion of the kitchen floor, he was already up the stairs. The pleas from the boy filled his ears as he raced down the short hallway. Then came the crash of wood and glass shattering.

By the time that he stood in the doorway, the boy was already gone along with the vast majority of the window. He stuck his head out to look for him, but there didn't seem to be any trace of him. The grassy hills nearby had pieces of wood and glass, but no sign of the boy. Even the woods farther off in the distance appeared undisturbed. He stood there at the broken window for several long moments, letting the silence absorb into him.

He didn't need to look to know that she was already gone.

"Sail through the wind and rain tonight. You're free to fly tonight." -Savage Garden ["You Can Still Be Free"]


End file.
